


staring into the mirror in your boyfriend's dress

by sweetchems



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Crossdressing, Domestic, Established Relationship, Genderplay, M/M, Makeup, Panties, This is really cheesy and sweet ffs, just a bit though, this is very mildly dirty in the middle its just m rated to b safe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:34:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22768606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetchems/pseuds/sweetchems
Summary: Gerard likes to dress up, and maybe Frank might like to as well.
Relationships: Frank Iero/Gerard Way
Comments: 21
Kudos: 71





	staring into the mirror in your boyfriend's dress

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!! i've been sitting on this one since november, possibly october, took me forever to finish it! it's kind of a love letter on my part to old bandom fics, i took some writing style inspiration from some older fics i've read. there's some great older fics that touch on genderplay or gender or just do crossdressing really well, and this isn't half as good as those, but i just adore reading them and wanted to write something similar to fill the void, since fics where the crossdressing isn't just a sex thing don't seem as common?

Frank likes when Gerard dresses up.

Sometimes it's unruly and it's sex, like it's  _ Rocky Horror _ , wild, messy hair and red lips and platform heels, sometimes it's androgyny and glam like he's Bowie, neon glitter around his eyes and shirts unbuttoned to show a flash of his chest…. Sometimes he dresses in drag, and he looks like fucking Joan Jett, smoky dark and punk rock, leather skirts and old band tees and the same pair of Doc Martens he's had since he was seventeen. Sometimes he looks like a pinup girl from the fucking 1950s, garters and stocking suspenders under his beautiful restored dresses. Other times, he's soft and sweet, sweaters two sizes too big over padded bras, skater skirts and strawberry lip gloss, and Frank, ever the punk rocker himself, doesn't have an analogy for that. 

It's a lot of things.  _ Gerard _ is a lot of things.

Gerard has a vanity in their spare room, the one that's too small for company, so he uses it for all his things. Frank uses the spare room for his unused things too. The vanity doesn't match the decor of the house, but nothing matches to begin with. It's a bit Victorian, found second hand, painted a glossy black, with red cloth draped elegantly over the top of the mirror. 

There's an elegant tree like thing made of black wire that sits on the vanity, hung with Gerard's necklaces and bracelets, the metal base of it shaped like a plate, holding rings and the bracelets too heavy for the tree branches. He has earrings, too, but he's too scared to get his ears pierced. 

There's one of those layered cake stands, and the different tiers of it are laden with Gerard's perfumes on one layer, some of his lipsticks on another, and on the top tier, he keeps his most often used jewelry, the things Frank got him recently. They're delicate silver chain and silver rings, both laden with red jewels, and he loves them.

In an organizer that spins around and that's set to the right of the cake stand, Gerard keeps all manner of makeup brushes, and an assortment of colorful bottles. Toners, cleansers, face wash, face  _ masks _ , Frank doesn't know what most of it is. The top two drawers of the vanity all this sits on are full of more makeup,  _ loads _ of it.

In the spare room, Gerard has a dressing screen. It's black, printed elegantly with red roses. When Frank watches him doll himself up, he doesn't get to see the dressing, Gee always slips behind the screen to do that, and comes out all curves and dark colors against pale skin, perfect with his already done dramatic hair and makeup. It's so much better of a tease that he doesn't get to see Gerard dress.

Gerard's outfits vary in theatrics. Sometimes he just puts on a bra and panties, and then pulls on his usual ratty casual clothes, and he lazes around the house like that. He has this stupid bra he bought for drag that he likes to wear. It's one of those water ones, and it makes it feel like he has tits, something soft and lewd that pushes against Frank when they cuddle or make out on lazy days. Sometimes Frank wonders a bit what having curves would feel like, even if they weren't your own. He thinks about asking Gerard to doll him up, but doesn't ask.

Sometimes Gerard dresses up to go out. He curls his long, black hair, and dons a tight dress, stockings, and heels. He wears lipgloss and eyeliner, and he and Frank go out for dinner, or drinks. Frank sometimes thinks about wearing makeup. Lipstick, and eyeliner, anything Gerard thinks he would pull off. He thinks about asking Gerard to doll him up, but doesn't ask.

And the last category of "girl Gerard", in Frank's mind, is full blown drag. Platform heels and big hair, corsets and glitter, padding to accentuate his hips and diminish his waist, it's ridiculous but also a hell of a fucking turn on. Frank knows for sure he's curious about trying it himself. He thinks about asking Gerard to doll him up, but doesn't ask.

One time, he's sitting in the spare room, watching Gerard preen at his vanity, watching him lay out his makeup for his look of the night. He's talking about wanting to go big, and Frank watches him in an eager haze, his eyes wide and fascinated.

Gerard shifts through makeup in a drawer, his loose silk robe slipping off of pale shoulders. He's humming to himself. His voice is delicate, well cared for. Frank wonders  _ how _ , with all the coffee and cigarette smoke and the occasional drink that goes into it.

"C'mere, sugar." Gerard's voice is absent, prettily so. He's got an idea in his head. One that just came in. Frank can tell. Still, Frank hops up from his perch, and shyly slips over to him. "Sit down for me?"

Frank swaps places with Gerard, who moves lighter than air as he rises from his chair and lets him settle into place, his legs parted and hands resting between them. Gerard reaches for something on the vanity, an ornate hairbrush that matches his whole gothic, dark, vaguely Victorian aesthetic he goes for sometimes. It's silver, with red and black detailing on the back and the handle, and it's not entirely unpleasant when Gerard starts to run the brush through his hair.

"You really should take better care of your hair, sweetheart…" Gerard murmurs. Frank catches him wrinkling his nose in the mirror as he tries to gently work out a snag. Unlike Gerard, with his perfectly styled, well maintained, always freshly dyed dark locks, Frank probably has  _ never _ brushed his hair. Now that it's long enough to brush the edge of his chin, he's starting to realize the issue with how unmaintained it is. Or maybe he's just letting Gerard do this because he wants to feel pretty. "You're so pretty, doing something with it would flatter you, or I think so at least…."

Frank just murmurs in agreement wordlessly, shyly. Color settles high on his cheeks, rosy and subtle. He smiles a bit. "You think so?" He asks, relaxing as Gerard pushes a stray lock of hair out of his eyes.

Gerard "mhm"s softly. His nails graze Frank's brow for a moment as he tucks his messy bangs behind his ear for him. 

"Y'know…." Frank begins, swallowing emptily as if it'll clear the high, nervous pitch from his voice. "I...I like  _ this _ ." He manages. 

"This, baby…?" 

Frank swallows, and nods. "I like, um… the whole idea of, y'know…. You, makin' me up, like you do to yourself…." He bites his lip, gaze wandering off to another part of the room.

"Mm…." Gerard makes one of his little understanding, virtuous Gerard-noises. "I had my theories, babe."

"Y...you did?" Frank's tongue feels like cotton in his mouth. He's blushing, knows he is.

Gerard nods, leaning around to lay a soft kiss to his temple. "Mhm. You watch me two ways when 'm getting ready. First way is just how I'd expect. Like you want me, think I'm real pretty…."

"What's the second…?" Frank asks, though he knows.

Humming softly, a brief little note, Gerard continues to work the brush through his hair. "The second's like you're jealous, almost…. But it's not really  _ angry _ jealous, just… longing, I think."

Frank nods, because as always, his boyfriend's hit the nail on the head.

"You like this, then? Like the idea of me dressing you up?" Gerard asks. His tone is absent, prettily so, but interested.

Frank ducks his head and lets his shoulders draw inward in a hunch. "Please…?" He feels stupid asking, but he  _ wants _ .

"I don't see why not," Gerard answers with a little smile, and another kiss, this one swiftly pressed to Frank's cheek. "But if we're going to do this, we're not gonna skimp, m'kay?"

Decidedly flustered, but with a sort of bubbly excitement in his stomach, Frank stands, and lets his boyfriend happily lead him out of the spare room, and down the hall to the bathroom. Frank doesn't feel  _ bubbly _ all that often. It's kind of an emotion he associates with things like Gerard talking about comic books, or fanboying over something else he loves, not with himself. It's a bit  _ cuter _ than he usually uses for himself. He's still not really sure if it's the right word, but it seems to fit. Huh.

Gerard moves perfectly, poised and put together and elegant, getting everything in order to run a bath. Honestly, Frank feels spoiled rotten already. Gerard doing "the works", as he usually calls it, on somebody- most often just himself- is a hell of a package, better than any sort of salon.

As the bathtub fills high with hot water and bubbles, Gerard turns his attention to a very flustered, pampered feeling Frank. "C'mon, don't be shy, babe. Am I gonna have to get you out of those clothes myself…?" His coy tone makes the idea of that not sound all too bad.

"Maybe so…?" Frank suggests, trying for once in his life to be flirty back. He trails lazy fingers up Gerard's chest, over silk and then over bare, pale skin. He catches rose blooming across his cheeks when he sees himself in the mirror behind Gerard, and ducks his head to instead look up at his boyfriend through his bangs, a playful smile dancing on his lips.

Smiling back, Gerard slips his hands in to push up the hem of Frank's dirty old Black Flag tee. The shirt was white at some point, probably when Frank was in his late teens, but on twenty-seven year old Frank, it's grimy and stained, from being washed with the darks too many times, and the design on the front is faded and chipping. As is what happens with cheap t-shirt prints. Tugging the shirt up and gently over Frank's head leads to Gerard's soft hands on his body, grazing his ribs, and the soft place where his stomach isn't so flat.

"You're so  _ pretty _ …." Gerard praises, like Frank is something to revere. 

Frank blushes, heat dancing on the tips of his ears and halfway down his now bare chest. "'m nothing much…. I'll be pretty, though, once you're done with me…." It's a self deprecating thing to say. But most things he says are.

"Oh, bull-fucking-shit," Gerard laughs, high and bright, "you  _ are _ pretty, Frankie."

Biting his lip to poorly conceal a smile, Frank just shrugs noncomittally and ducks his head. Gerard's right hand comes to rest on his waist, and his left slips in to tip Frank's chin up and kiss him properly. Frank moans softly, lazily into the kiss, hips twitching forward to meet Gerard's hand when it slips down to undo the fly of his jeans. He sighs weakly at the brief contact, voice not wanting to come to him in more than a needy rasp. Letting Gerard coax him out of the rest of his clothes is easy, always is.  _ He's _ easy. He doesn't mind being so. He  _ can _ be stubborn, he just doesn't feel much like it. Tonight, he wants to be easy.

You might not think there's any skill to it, but Gerard really does know how to run a nice bath. The water is hot, but not scalding, and the heaps of bubbles smell like roses, and maybe lavender. They smell the same way Gerard does when he gets all done up to go out. The association draws a half melted moan from Frank's lips as he goes completely slack and pliant.

Frank decides he really likes being spoiled.

A pair of warm hands find his freshly brushed hair, and anything Gerard could be saying falls on deaf ears as he zeros in on the complete fucking  _ heaven _ that is hands working through his hair. Whatever magic Gee is presumably working on him smells great, too, kind of lemony? 

"Sweetheart, be a good boy and lift your head up, I can't get all your hair if you're slumping like that," Gerard chides him, intonating in that just  _ slightly _ commanding way. Frank mumbles a compliant "yes'm" sort of sound, tipping his head forward lazily. He meant to say "yes ma'am", but he can't really find his voice. He feels so loosened up already that he's pretty sure he wouldn't know raising his eyebrow from wiggling his fingers. 

Frank's not really sure what the  _ point _ of the stuff Gerard puts in his hair is, but it smells nice, and then he's rinsing it out, working in something else next. Whatever it is gets applied heavily to the ends of his hair, and not so much everywhere else. Gerard remarks, "You have  _ such _ nice hair, babe, would it kill you to wash it every so often?"

Giggling loosely, Frank retorts, "You're one to talk…!", thinking of Gerard in college. Gerard in college, with his shoulder length hair that was greasy and dirty and had probably never been washed. Gerard rolls his eyes affectionately, and presses a kiss to Frank's forehead.

" _ Yes _ , but I wash my hair  _ now _ . That's the point," Gerard explains, but Frank is more focused on his hands as they rinse out mystery hair potion two. He knows logically it's just plain old shampoo and conditioner, but Gerard is like some kind of drag witch in his eyes. Calling them potions is more fitting for him. Besides, considering Gerard's remarks on the current state of his hair, they could be any number of things.

Frank's not entirely sure what the point of body soap when he's literally soaking in soapy water is, but the bodywash Gerard uses smells like roses too. It makes him feel like something soft, something  _ pretty _ . He thinks  _ pretty girl _ , and some satisfying warmth settles in his stomach, like he's appeasing some secondary desire he hasn't really ever acted on. He's always been a pretty masculine guy, or kind of ended up presenting as such, due to expectations, or contrast with Gerard's own high femininity, so to soften up like this helps him get over something. To doll up like he wants to is kind of helping him through a weird block in his head, one he wasn't even consciously aware of. One that always used to think it was  _ odd _ that Gerard, resident pretty boy, was the most domineering guy he'd ever gone out with. One which made him disregard self care even more than he does now when he was younger, because it was stupid and prissy for a guy to care about his skin or his hair or what have you.

Frank stumbles a bit when he has to get out of the bath, laughing softly and leaning into Gerard for support. He feels floaty and euphoric, like he's drunk when he's not. Like he's just been screwed stupid. He hopes that might happen later. That he'll get dressed up nice, and Gee will dress up a little too, and they'll have melted, love-drunk, sleepy sex.  _ Pretty _ . He sits down on the edge of the tub, already tipsy on affection.

With half lidded eyes, Frank manages to just barely keep his focus on watching Gerard pull a disposable razor out of a packet. It's teal plastic, and the tiny visible blade catches the light for a split second. "You're doing so well for me, sugar…." Gerard is praising him. Frank preens, all self satisfied and a bit cocky, smiling at his words. "Now, 'm gonna need you to hold still for me, kay…?" He instructs delicately, setting the razor on the edge of the counter. Blinking sleepily, head still swimming and warm and full of rose scent, Frank lets him shave his face clean of the little bit of messy scruff along his jawline. The foamy shaving stuff Gerard uses smells as good as everything else, though the scent is less placeable. 

He isn't really sure why letting Gerard shave him clean everywhere  _ else _ has him so flustered, so hot under the metaphorical collar. But, so be it, he gets all weak in the knees at Gerard kneeling before him to shave his legs, after he's gone through the process everywhere else, moving slack limbs easily to shave his upper body. Arms, underarms, the little bit of hair on his chest, mostly gone already to make his ink show up better, just touched up, smooth and hairless and soft. Oh,  _ hell _ , he better not be getting off on this, he thinks hopelessly, a blush no doubt tinting his cheeks as Gerard glances up at him from between his thighs to check that he's okay. There's a dull hum of arousal coursing through his insides, warm and needy, and he tries not to think about Gerard being between his parted legs. As if Gee isn't his boyfriend of  _ literally  _ eight years.

"Have I mentioned how  _ pretty _ you are, babe?" Gerard asks with a little coy grin. He presses a kiss to the inside of Frank's bare thigh (gosh, that's an odd sight, to see pale, perfectly hairless skin there). The brief contact makes Frank shiver, cheeks flushing pink. He still feels warm all over, hazy, so touch lights him up like a live wire. 

Still, he rolls his eyes at Gerard. "You've said it a  _ few _ times…." He teases, extending his leg in an unintentional mockery of elegance for Gerard to get at. 

He thinks about how strange this is. And how it's also not at all strange. As much as it's weird, and most people would probably take offense to it in a way… it feels domestic to Frank. Normal. Even though usually, Gerard is shaving his own legs and bathing in rose bubbles, not carrying out such things on him, Frank feels utterly routine and normal when he spaces out on what's going on. When he doesn't give his dick a chance to decide it wants in, that is.

"Well, you're very pretty…." Gerard finishes the soft discussion, smiling fondly up at him. "And…" He punctuates his pause with a slow drag of the razor up Frank's calf, "I think you're gonna like my ideas for styling you, baby…."

Color floods Frank's cheeks, and he raises a brow in what he hopes is an aloof, Gerardlike manner. Judging by his partner's giggle, it's not really. He tries, though. "Well, they involve  _ you _ , so it's probably not wrong of you to think that," He answers simply, watching Gerard rinse the razor off and dry it to get the last of the hair on his legs, before setting it aside, finished.

"Hush," Gerard chides lightly. He pats Frank's knee like Frank is a little kid, and gets to his feet. Extending a hand for Frank to take, Gerard helps him up, and pecks him on the lips. Any thoughts of quips or flirts go out of Frank's head with a  _ buzz _ , just from one little kiss.

Frank doesn't think he could ever get sick of kissing Gerard. His lips always taste like cherry gloss, and his mouth is soft and warm, tongue curious and teasing, coaxing moans from Frank's lips. He kisses soft, lazy and languid, his hands curious as he does.

By the time he pulls away, a dazed fog has settled over Frank's mind, warmth blooming over his skin. He feels slow and lazy, and tries to chase Gerard's lips for another kiss, whining when he doesn't get what he wants.

"Ah-ah, angel, not yet," Gerard scolds. He smiles fondly at the pout on Frank's soft, kiss-swollen lips. "If I just keep kissing you, we'll never get done, hm?" Adoration shining in his eyes, he brings a delicate hand up to stroke Frank's cheek.

Frank glances up at him through his lashes. "Later, right…?" He asks coyly, trailing a hand up Gerard's chest.

Resting his hand over where Frank's lies, Gerard smiles playfully. "Later." He locks his fingers with Frank's with that one word, and tugs his hand as he pulls him forward. He moves gently, in almost a child-like way, and Frank somehow falls more in love. 

It's an oddly surreal feeling, Frank decides, to be sitting at Gerard's vanity. Seeing himself reflected in the mirror, front and center, instead of Gerard, it's strange. Feeling hands in his hair, he melts into Gerard's warm touch, feels him twisting his overgrown dark hair up, and when he glances at his reflection again, he finds Gerard busily twisting rollers into his hair, like he uses on his own head when he doesn't use a wig.

"Must be a special occasion if a pretty girl like you feels she needs to  _ add _ to her looks, hm?" Gerard murmurs coyly, his usual heavy, almost sing-songy tones of Jersey exaggerated as he plays at being a hairdresser.

Frank laughs lightly, happiness bubbling up in his stomach. His cheeks tinted pink and lips curved in a small smile, he shyly answers, "well, there's this  _ boy _ ….", like a high school girl chatting with her stylist on the day of her senior prom.

"A boy?" Gerard has to hold back a soft giggle. "Tell me more, sugar, you can't just leave it at that!" He encourages.

Pursing his lips, Frank tries to think of how to describe Gerard  _ to _ Gerard. " _ Well _ … God, he's so sweet, real good to me, bein' with him is like… it's everything I've ever wanted." He smiles shyly, meeting Gerard's gaze in the mirror. 

The deep blush spread across Gerard's cheeks makes Frank's smile only brighten. He hums, pleased at the sight, and at the feeling of Gerard's slender fingers shaking as he works with his wet hair. "He's real lucky to have you too…. Pretty, sweet thing like you could have anyone you want…." Gerard says softly, and Frank's proud to have him a little flustered for once.

Frank smiles, and just lets Gerard finish his hair. The weight of all the rollers is a strange one to get used to, but he just spaces out a little while Gee runs a blow dryer over it all to set it. "God, you're gonna look incredible, sugar…." He murmurs. "You always do, but… wow."

Blushing, Frank shrugs noncomittally. He feels pretty now, but he doesn't usually, so he has trouble believing Gerard. He can be a bit in his own head like that.

He zones out from his doubtful thoughts though, trying to get out of his head and just focus on Gerard's slowly progressing handiwork. He knows he must space out for a little while, since when he snaps out of it, Gerard's gently encouraging him to stand, and the hair dryer is sitting on the vanity. Peaceful and pliant, and growing used to the odd weight of rollers on his head, he lets Gerard lead him behind the mysterious dressing screen.

Behind the screen is kind of what Frank expected. A full length mirror, a rolling rack or two of clothes, some shoes organized against the wall, and their spare dresser against the wall nearby, an old, beat up one that stores sheets and such. And the rest of Gerard's "girl clothes" are stored in it too, of course.

Gerard gets to work looking through the dresser right away. He begins, "If you don't want to wear panties or anything, I'm totally alright with that, love-"

"I-I'd like to, if that's… y'know… alright…?" Frank cuts him off, cheeks burning. "I-I wanna do all of it…."

Gerard goes right back to business at that with a soft, almost pleased "of course, baby." After a bit of searching- and a bit of time for Frank to get nervously, excitedly  _ wanting _ -, Gerard rises from where he's stuck his head in a drawer. In his hands, he holds a simple matching white bra and panties. They're innocent, almost, something Frank wouldn't usually think of himself as. It does seem to fit tonight though, he determines after stealing a glance at himself in the mirror.

"I think these'll do, hm?" Gerard offers, surprisingly casual and level headed at the idea of his boyfriend in panties. Frank nods, a little too eager and anything but level headed. His head is spinning, and he hardly feels his feet against the ground as he starts to step forward, only for Gerard to meet him where he stands, and sink to his knees elegantly. 

Frank mind wanders. He thinks of pressing his lips into the subtle dip of Gerard's collarbone where his robe is falling loosely away from it. His arousal is only amplified when Gerard takes charge over his body again, lifting his legs one at a time to help him step into the white cotton panties. His hands are soft as silk as he slides the material up Frank's legs to settle around his hips, and Frank  _ moans _ as fingers brush his cock, doing a simple job of partially tucking it. Not so much that he can't get hard, just enough to soften his visual.

Head swimming, Frank can hardly keep track of Gerard getting to his feet behind him, only barely aware of the delicate hand on the small of his back, that disappears only to come back a moment later to work on his body. He shuts his eyes to keep from peeking just for  _ this _ part, though he's not sure why, and lets Gerard hook the bra around his chest next. With it comes an oddly heavy weight, pressed against his skin, but he waits till Gee is done situating it to look at himself.

"O-oh- oh-  _ wow _ …." Is all he can manage when he sees himself in the mirror. Parts of his body are the same. His hips are straight, his shoulders a little broad, waist missing any curves, but  _ fuck _ . The simple, white cups of the bra are nearly spilling over, the cheap breast forms that're part of the cups themselves through some clever Gerard-drag-handiwork creating a look of almost cleavage. When Frank pushes at the forms of his chest with clumsy, awkward hands, his tits ( _ fuck, _ he thinks) bounce half-naturally, and he gasps like they're a part of him. He thinks blankly of them being part of his body, and for a moment he can picture the extra weight attached to him, strange as that sounds, and it's a strange thought, if not entirely unpleasant. They aren't too big for his body even, just sizeable in a way that feels oddly natural, even if he wouldn't want them as a part of his body, they feel right for this. He feels pretty. 

Gerard seems infatuated as always, though there's something hungry in it, that isn't always there. Something needy, darkening his eyes in such a way that Frank withers like a flower from just seeing it. His hands come to settle on Frank's waist from behind, and Frank feels  _ right _ , slotted against him perfectly, the warmth of Gerard's chest and the softness of his robe perfect against his skin.

Frank thinks about how for once, he's more all-in-all  _ feminine _ than Gerard, but how Gerard is still so damn  _ pretty _ , the prettier out of them both. While Frank is still an odd jumble of harsh and soft angles, Gerard is serene even when he  _ wants _ , when he's treading on dark and dirty, and Frank is a mess. God help his weak little heart, Gerard's androgny and calm are a weapon.

"Let's get you dressed, huh sugar…?" Gee suggests, voice husky and breathless. It's easy to tell just how  _ much _ he wants to unravel all his already done hard work, but he's patient. When Frank nods, his head bobbing eagerly, in a way that's almost puppyish, Gerard softly praises " _ good girl _ ." Frank positively  _ melts _ , his smaller frame slumping helplessly against his boyfriend's. 

Getting dressed when he's a praise drunk mess of gelatin limbs and stupid smiles is  _ hard _ . He just wants to kiss Gerard, kiss him and kiss him and  _ kiss _ him. He tries to steal little pecks on the lips from Gee where he can as the other slips around him, gathering pieces of different outfits out of the dresser and off the rack.

The first thing to go on, that seems to still be in the "outfit nonspecific things-that-go-under-your-clothes" category is a pair of opaque thigh high stockings. They're a creamy, almost white sort of color, topped with a yellowed bit of lace trim. He feels fucking honest to God  _ delicate _ , fragile when he arches one leg to let Gerard push a stocking into his foot and up his leg. The feeling of the material against his clean shaven legs makes him shiver and bite his lip. He thinks about all the times Gerard's worn stockings. He thinks about how many times those stockings have left him hard and bothered, with how they show off Gee's incredible legs.

He really,  _ desperately _ hopes that he affects Gerard like this.

"Pretty,  _ pretty _ boy, my heart…." Gerard coos, pausing a moment to rest his head against Frank's bared stomach, against the bird tattoos that dance across his hips, that Frank forgets are there some days. 

Biting his lip and hoping he's not blushing too hard, Frank manages a small smile. "Jeez, you fuckin' sap…." He teases. His fingers drift up to lace into Gee's hair for a moment. 

_ That  _ earns him a little smile. "I just love you, that's all…!" Gerard chides with a pout.

"If you love me, get me a shirt or something, I'm  _ cold _ ," Frank whines back. With a scoff and a kiss pressed to Frank's inner thigh, Gerard gets to his feet to look through the clothes he's pulled out as options.

The first choice of tops Gerard holds up is black. It's a black blouse, with a pretty, sharper sort of collar. The fabric is light but stiff, and the shirt practically stands on its own on the hanger.

Frank shakes his head. It's not him at all, and yet the color draws it too close to being him. "That's more of a  _ you _ thing," He says to Gerard. Gerard glances at it and nods in agreement. He slips it back in with its sister dresses and blouses and skirts on the rack.

The next option, Frank actually does try on. It's a thin turtleneck sweater, in a sage green sort of color. It's tighter than he's used to sweaters being, clings a little in the chest, showing off curves and padding. He likes it, it's sort of…. He tries to think of a word Gerard would use for it. 

_ Playful _ . There's one. It's playful, has a bouncy, cute look to it. He looks at himself in it, and thinks of a girl with her hair in a ponytail, in this sweater and a short skirt. It's  _ too _ not him. He thinks of something to suggest. He's just being picky, he needs to put in a real opinion, with words.

"Could I-" Frank nearly swallows his tongue when he goes to ask. "...could I try a dress...?" He manages softly, as if he thinks Gerard will find that dumb. He hardly recognizes himself, he sounds so  _ timid _ .

Gerard looks a little surprised, but nods. "Of course, Frankie, whatever you want. I'll step back if you want." He's smiling, honest and wanting to be uncontrolling. As much as androgny and fashion and crossdressing are Gerard's personal ballgame, he wants Frank to put himself together, to be in his own comfort zone.

Frank sheds the green sweater, walks over to the disorganized rack of clothes. He stares at everything hung out to choose from. He brushes his fingers over all the dresses, which are sort of all on one side of the rack. 

He sees one, shoved to the far left end of the dresses, and without even picking it out, it feels right. Hung up, it doesn't look like much, but he's drawn to it, the almost vintage look to it fascinates him. Pulling it off the rack, he looks it over. 

"This one."

The skirt is full, it has short sleeves that're almost bell shaped, like maybe a cardigan or something should go over it with the bitter winter weather outside. It's white, patterned with soft, tranquil blue designs that take up the majority of the print, though yellowed with age around the hem, and on the full underskirt. It's a dress Gerard thrifted, clearly. 

"Pretty…." He hears Gerard murmur. "I don't think I've ever worn her out…." 

Frank smiles. "Help me put it on…?" He asks shyly, and doesn't have to look in the mirror to know he's blushing.

Gerard unzips the dress down the back when Frank hands it to him. He slips it off the hanger nonchalantly. "Arms up, Frankie," He requests. 

Obeying easily, Frank catches himself shivering when the delicate but stiff single layer ruffles of the underskirt pass over his face as the dress is put on over his head. He adjusts the front of it a little as Gerard is doing up the back for him, makes sure the bra-  _ his  _ bra, he supposes- isn't visible at the neckline. He doesn't meet his own gaze in the mirror till Gee says, "All set, love."

But when he does, he's sure his eyes are wide as they can get, and he's blushing all the way down to his fake tits, he's pretty sure. "Oh my  _ God _ …." He murmurs, and can't help smiling, even though he looks a bit stupid still, hair still setting and outfit unfinished. God, he  _ wants _ . He wants to turn around and kiss Gerard, and not stop kissing him for a long, long time, he wants Gerard to leave marks on his neck, leave his lips red from kisses, tell him what a  _ pretty  _ girl he makes, wants Gerard to push him up against the wall and fucking suck his cock until he's gasping from it,  _ Jesus _ -

"What  _ are _ you thinking about now…?" Gerard teases, and Frank's blush goes from a subtle pink to an all out blotchy, burning red. 

Going to stuff his hands in his pockets, Frank changes motion halfway through to smoothing his dress awkwardly. He clears his throat, but his voice still comes out a little higher than usual. "We'll never get done here if you know," He scoffs, nearly repeating the hands-in-pockets motion. Gerard hums affirmatively, almost a laugh. 

"I know. I don't mind if you don't…?" 

Gerard's voice is light, playfully seductive. It matches with the whole look he has going at the moment. Touseled dark hair, bouncing loosely against his pale face when he laughs, or blows a loose strand out of his eyes. The red silk robe he wears is nearly fully displaying his chest and shoulders by this point, and Frank can't help but thinks he looks like some sort of old fashioned consort, all delicate and soft curves and playful flirting to take a rich client to bed. He giggles at the thought, but shakes his head when Gerard asks what's so funny.

"You're  _ such _ a flirt,  _ Christ _ , baby," He scoffs, whirls around to smack Gerard playfully on the arm. 

Gerard bursts into bright, bubbly laughter at his words, his shoulders shaking and the inky waves of his hair bouncing against them as he throws his head back in the midst of his happiness. "You haven't noticed  _ before _ , sweetheart?" He chides, his grip soft when he starts to steer Frank by his shoulders, back to the glossy dark mysteries of the vanity.

"Maybe a little bit…." Frank murmurs as he seats himself, with a smile and a roll of his eyes. He reaches up to brush his fingers over his hair, still twisted up in what's going to spill down and be messy, loose curls, more consistent than the way his long hair naturally dries, with weird pieces that curl and others that don't.

Before he can pipe up, can ask what's next, Gerard is brushing manicured nails over the mess of cosmetics on the vanity in front of them, his nails clacking against plastic containers, gathering brushes and little compacts. And in a swooping motion, he takes Frank's chin, grips it gently in slender fingers, and tips it up, turning Frank to face him.

"Close your eyes for me…?" He requests warmly. Frank's eyes flutter closed immediately, gentle and obedient. And then there's the feeling of soft brushes against his eyelids, painting them perfectly with the aid of a delicate hand. "Good boy…. Gonna look so damn  _ beautiful _ when we're done here, angel…." Gerard purrs, and Frank can hear the soft smile in his voice. 

The firm but gentle drag of a liner pencil around his eyes nearly makes him open them, but Gerard makes a soft noise, as if warning him to  _ not _ . "Okay, open your eyes now," He requests softly after a moment, and Frank does as he's told, eyes fluttering open. Mascara, of course. Gerard has him blink once, twice, three times for each eye as he applies it, the motion perfected, just as he does on himself.

"You have such nice skin, sweetheart, so pretty…." Gerard murmurs, cupping Frank's cheek in one hand. Frank's nose scrunches up a little when a brush runs over the tip of it, then slips down to dust blush over the apples of his cheeks as well. "And such pretty lips too…." Voice low and sweet as honey, Gerard leans in to kiss him. Just a soft peck on the lips, but it leaves Frank wanting just a  _ little _ more as he draws away, lips replaced by the little wand in a tube of gloss, running over Frank's lips easily and finishing his makeup.

Pity he can't see it himself. Gerard has him turned away from the mirror so he can do his makeup, and he keeps him turned away as he slow takes down the rollers. Frank's hair falls in his eyes, bouncing against the contours of his face when Gerard runs his fingers through it, separating the curls carefully, softening them by running a brush through them. He tucks Frank's hair behind one ear, out of his face, but doesn't pin it in place. Frank is okay with that, things in his hair tend to make him a little fidgety.

"My beautiful angel…." Gerard coos softly, his lips curving into a delicate smile before Frank's eyes. He's such a romantic, it makes Frank  _ melt _ .

Laughing softly, red blooming across his cheeks, Frank looks up at him through his lashes. "Do I get to see what I look like?" He asks, almost coy.

The teasing tone leaves him when Gerard turns him to see his reflection. Any more light words are replaced by a soft "oh my  _ God _ ".

He's done it.

He's a  _ pretty girl _ .

His hands find the hem of his skirt, playing with it as he takes himself in. His hair, long as it is, nearly falls past his chin, coming in soft, dark waves, too-long bangs. His eyes look positively enormous, more vibrant than ever, brought out by eyeshadow that compliments the peaceful blue pattern of his dress. His red, glossy lips part on a soft, shocked "oh" still.

And fuck, he's got  _ curves _ . His chest fills out the dress perfectly, it clings to forms that aren't usually there, and the skirt hides his bony, nonexistent hips. He's such a weird mix of a 50s pinup and a punk, stockings and a pretty dress and subtle eye makeup, the illusion of an hourglass figure, but tattooed arms and hands and neck exposed and dark hair in his eyes still, lips red. His shoulders should be too broad, his jawline and chin too harsh, but they aren't. He feels  _ pretty _ .

"Fuck…." He breathes, his eyes wide and glazed over when he looks in the mirror.

Gerard is full of pride and love behind him. "So beautiful, sugar…." He praises softly. "Wanna dress up too, take you out…." His voice is breathless, rambling. "Be your pretty girl, and you'll be mine…."

When Frank goes to speak, breath catches in his throat, his voice comes out softer, a touch higher. 

"I'd  _ love _ that…." He breathes.

**Author's Note:**

> if anyone wants to discuss genderriffic fics with me, i'm @/ourangeloftrash on tumblr, shoot me an anon. or just give me sweet lengthy comments on here, ao3 has a way better character limit!


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